


In the Evening

by cowgirldressage1



Series: All Day Long [3]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Old Married James T. Kirk/Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:49:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24918634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowgirldressage1/pseuds/cowgirldressage1
Summary: Final story in the All Day Long Series. Jim and Spock are retired in San Francisco. Jim is fading and Spock must figure out how to keep his dementia at bay. This is a bit sad but I think a satisfying solution to Generations which absolutely never happened. If you are triggered by losing someone or aging, this may not be the story for you. You probably want to read at least In the Morning and or In the Afternoon to understand some of the context but it's not necessary.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: All Day Long [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/586486
Comments: 14
Kudos: 37





	In the Evening

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plaidshirtjimkirk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaidshirtjimkirk/gifts).



> This story has been a long time coming but was very difficult to write. I have watched a lot of people die, some slowly, some quickly and it's never easy. To get to the place where I could get the words out was very challenging in so far as it had to go on hiatus because I got a diagnosis of colon cancer and honestly was too sick to write. Now I'm feeling better but one of the things that got me through chemo and its attendant miseries was I HAD to finish this. I hope you enjoy it.

Spock rose through layers of meditation, acutely aware of the time. It was dusk in San Francisco, when the sun was sinking below the horizon and the light faded from the sky. It was a time of beauty in his adopted city and he never failed to appreciate the subtly of the fading colors. It was also a time of anxiety, as Jim seemed to fade as well. Aging had been mostly kind to his bond mate. Jim remained beautiful to his eyes. His love might disagree, fussing with the lines in his face, his increasing hair loss, his lack of balance but Spock knew better. Jim was vital. When his hands grasped Spock’s, the grip was powerful even if Spock could feel pain through the bond. 

At twilight though, Jim faded with the light. His bright mind became less acute. He was sometimes confused, irritable, not himself. Spock would admit fear during these times; not at every shuttering evening but frequently enough that he’d consulted Jim’s best friend and doctor, Leonard McCoy. With regret, ‘Bones’ had explained ‘sundowners syndrome’ wherein an elderly individual might show symptoms of dementia at the end of the day. There were reasons, biochemical that explained the process. Spock had read the literature but illogically denied that it might be occurring. Leonard wasn’t terribly concerned as Jim’s situation wasn’t acute. Spock took that as evidence that Jim wasn’t suffering from anything other than simple aging, while suspecting that Leonard might disagree.

Spock made himself aware of Jim’s mood and felt the familiar depression the dusk brought. He roused himself from his space and found Jim in the bay window of their Victorian home, gazing morosely out into the park. Dial, their red tabby was wrapped around Jim’s legs as he sat in the Eames chair in the window. Spock lifted an eyebrow and was rewarded with both a grunt from Jim and a contented sound from Dial.

“Would you like to join me for a walk?” Spock lifted an inquiring brow.

Jim considered for a moment and then nodded. He knew Spock was trying to cheer him up and he was willing.

\--

Their Victorian house was directly across the street from Golden Gate Park. They walked on a dirt footpath that meandered around the edge of the park, used by runners and walkers. Five years ago, Jim used it to run. Now, he enjoyed a sedate walk and sometimes, conversation. Jim usually commented about the trees and their growth or a new bed of flowers. Sometimes his comments were new; sometimes they were relegated to old observations that had no value except to Spock, who nodded as if he’d never heard them before.

Spock had learned over time that Jim’s repetition of facts was part of his aging mind. He’d learned to embrace this as part of their lives and moved beyond, neither judging nor worrying about it. Ultimately, it was irrelevant. The mere fact that Jim noticed and enjoyed the park was sufficient.

They’d been apart twenty-one days and a matter of hours, so Spock was surprised that Jim was quiet. True, they’d spoken of inconsequentials when Spock returned a few hours ago but the usual flood of questions about the Kaiosian negotiation hadn’t occurred. It was odd and disturbing.

Spock cleared his throat and took his father’s advice from long ago on how to handle a human spouse. He spoke his mind. “Jim, are you troubled by something?”

Jim snorted, drawing his arm through Spock’s. “Not at all.”

That wasn’t a truthful answer so he persisted. “You are unusually taciturn this evening. I am surprised.”

Jim smiled and bumped Spock’s shoulder affectionately. 

Still not a satisfactory response. Spock huffed and with planned irritation, stated, “Well?”

“Here, I thought my ceaseless chatter annoyed you. I was saving my monologue for tonight as you tried to go to sleep.”

Spock raised an eyebrow, secretly delighted at Jim’s teasing. “As you are no doubt aware, Vulcans require less sleep than . . .”

“Stow it Mister, I know exactly how to put you to sleep faster than a Denebian . . . “ Jim trailed off, giving Spock a suggestive look.

Oh, teasing and flirting! Spock was charmed. “Perhaps, Jim you can familiarize me with your technique when we return home.”

Jim grinned and they walked in companionable silence for a time. It was almost full dark when they returned to the house and Jim stopped at the foot of their porch.

“You know, maybe we should sell the house and move somewhere else.”

Spock looked at Jim in shock. “Are you unhappy here, Jim?”

Jim patted his arm, “No, but maybe a change in scenery would do us some good.”

There were so many reasons why this was a terrible idea. Spock’s base of operations as the Ambassador at Large was in San Francisco. Dr. McCoy had warned that changes in routine were likely to confuse Jim and make it more difficult for him to function. Spock also loved this house and the memories he and Jim had created in it.

“We can consider it, if it is your wish. But Jim, I have an illogical attachment to our home and . . . I’m unsure Dial would be satisfied with another abode.”

“Aren’t you really saying I might have trouble adjusting to a new place?” Jim’s gaze was sharp as ever and a challenge. Spock knew it would take every diplomatic skill he had to negotiate this.

“Perhaps or you might find change stimulating. I do not know. I do know I find comfort in where ever you are. You are my home.”

“Nicely done, Spock. Did you use flattery when you were negotiating with the Kaiosians?”

“Unnecessary, they were swayed by my application of superior logic.”

“And arrogance. You are more like your father every day.”

“You wound me, Jim.” Spock placed his hand over his chest where his heart would be if he were human. Jim pulled his hand down to Spock’s left side where is heart actually was and gave his hand a squeeze, taking the bite out of his comment.

Spock smiled slightly and then shivered. “We should continue this inside as it is quite cool.”

“Let’s warm you up, then.” Jim carefully grasped the banister and slowly climbed the stairs to the porch and let them in. Jim continued down the hall, turning on lights manually as he went, eschewing the automatic functions. Spock followed after hanging up his coat and Jim’s jacket in the hall closet and neatly sidestepping Dial who was intent on attention now that they  
were back.

In the kitchen, Jim busied himself at the sink and began to make some Alderban tea, a time consuming endeavor but as it was Spock’s favorite, well worth the effort. The sun was setting, throwing long shadows into the cozy room. Jim hummed something off key and Spock quietly observed the domestic scene. 

Spock was far more capable of taking in information and reacting quickly than was common for either humans or Vulcans. Despite that, when the teapot Jim was holding fell to the floor, Spock actually startled.

“Damn it! Damn it to hell!” Jim caught himself on the kitchen counter as he tried to get to his knees.

Spock was beside him in a moment holding a towel, ready to pick up the broken bits of china. “Let me, Jim. . .”

“No! I can do it! Move!” Jim’s elbow pushed Spock out of a crouch and onto his side. He ignored Spock and grabbed some of the large pieces too hard, cutting his hands. 

Spock righted himself and stared at Jim’s hands, the cuts creasing his palms began to well with blood. 

Looking at his bleeding palms, Jim ducked his head, a flush rising from his neck. “Look what I’ve done. Now it’s broken, ruined. What will Spock say? He’ll be so disappointed. How can I tell him? I’ve ruined everything.” Jim’s head hung from trembling shoulders as he dropped the shards of china back onto the floor.

There were a million thoughts going through Spock’s mind but mostly he was shocked into a stillness that gave him a moment of clarity. Jim didn’t remember he was there. 

“Jim!”

“This was his favorite teapot. I have to fix it.” Jim rose unsteadily to his feet, using the counter to pull himself up. He put the bloodied pieces in the sink, unaware of his damaged hands and Spock still sitting on the kitchen floor. “He’ll be furious. I can’t even . . .”

“JIM! Admiral!” Jim slowly swung his head around and looked down at Spock, confused.

“Spock? What’s happening? What are you doing home?”

Spock carefully got to his feet and gently took Jim’s hands. “Jim, you hurt yourself, let me help you.”

Jim pulled away, bits of china crushing under his feet, his eyes still clouded with confusion and now fear. “Did I break that?” He gestured vaguely at the broken pieces. Jim looked down at his hands and shook his head. “Damn, this hurts.”

Spock sat Jim down in the kitchen chair. Once he felt sure he’d settled, he quickly made his way to the downstairs bathroom where a rudimentary first aide kit was secured to the wall. By the time he returned to the kitchen, he found Jim examining his bleeding hands blankly, his blood dripping onto the kitchen table.

Spock quickly ran the tricorder over Jim’s injured hands and found only superficial damage. Speaking quietly, he explained what he was going to do next, taking out the dermal regenerator and running it over Jim’s hands. When the cuts were healed, he dampened gauze with warm water and cleaned Jim’s palms. With gentle fingers, Spock rubbed an antibacterial into the cuts and watched for any wince or flinch. There was none. Jim continued to watch Spock’s ministrations blankly.

Finally, Jim pulled his hands away. “I’ve made a mess, Spock. I’m sorry.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Jim. It was merely an accident.”

“No, Spock. We both know it was more than that. I couldn’t get my hands to close. It was like they were completely disconnected from my mind.”

“It is of no importance Jim. Now you need to change. Your tunic is no doubt uncomfortable.”

Jim fingered the bloodied ends of his sleeves and shook his head. “I’m not sure I remember doing this. But you are right, lets go upstairs and clean up. I’m a bit tired and maybe a nap before dinner?”

“That sounds satisfactory, Jim.” With that, he helped Jim stand and followed him closely up the stairs. The damage in the kitchen would have to wait. Spock had no intention of leaving Jim alone.

\---

Jim had been sorted and had drifted into a deep sleep. Perhaps Spock had helped a bit, touching his mind gently and smoothing away any anxiety. Confident Jim would not awake for sometime, and if he did, Spock would sense it, he quickly set the kitchen to rights. With regret he put the remains of the teapot in the recycler and looked around for Dial. Dial was behind a cupboard, clearly frightened. Spock carefully scooped him up and held him to his chest. It took a few moments, but Dial began to purr his contentment and Spock found himself sitting down in the kitchen chair Jim had just occupied and felt his eyes fill with tears. He was afraid, he despaired, he was angry that time was taking away that which he most valued. As each emotion was brought forth, Spock looked at it from all angles and placed them in appropriate compartments within his well-disciplined mind. 

Once he was again in control, he pulled the Com over and commanded it to contact Dr. McCoy. When it connected, he was face to face with Leonard who was wiping sleep from his face. It was very late in Georgia but Spock was sufficiently concerned that he felt the late night conversation was warranted.

McCoy took one look at Spock’s face and was immediately concerned. “It’s Jim, isn’t it? What happened?”

Spock took a moment to gather his thoughts. “He injured himself when he dropped a teapot. We had spent the evening together but he forgot I was there. He spoke . . . as though I was still absent.”

McCoy drew a hand over his face. “Spock . . . sudden shock will exacerbate his condition. How badly did he hurt himself?”

“It was minor, I took care of him.”

McCoy rubbed his tired eyes. “While you were gone, I checked in with him at least once every few days. Most of the time he was himself but towards the end of your stay, he became hesitant and slightly confused. He realized it and reached out to me a couple of times. And I’m sure you heard he put his classes and lectures on hold. He’s officially on sabbatical. The Admiralty is aware of the situation.” 

Spock had not known about the sabbatical and this deeply concerned him.

McCoy continued, “Where is he now?”

“Asleep upstairs. I am maintaining our connection. He will remain so for as long as he needs to.”

“Spock! That’s not a solution.”

“I will help him remain in a restful sleep until the conclusion of our call.”

McCoy sighed, “Of course. I’d like him to come into Starfleet Medical for some tests. They’d give us an idea of what’s happening.”

“There is another solution, Leonard, as you are well aware. I realize you do not approve but it can not harm Jim any more than this disease has.”

“No! Absolutely not! Jim would never agree. It’s far too dangerous for you. Your Vulcan hoodoo isn’t intended to stabilize his mind. You’ve already consulted with some of the best mind healers on Vulcan, even they rejected this insane plan of yours.”

“Their primary concern was because I was half Human. I believe my telepathic skills are sufficient to help Jim. It is our decision to make.”

“Spock, listen to yourself. You would have to give up your career, possibly even your sanity. And I’m not sure Jim is capable of consent at this point and I’m damn sure any doctor including myself would suspect undue influence even if he did agree!”

“I care nothing for my career. My life is with Jim for as long as he is alive. I am his surrogate for his health and his bond mate. It is for us to decide.”

“Damn it Spock! Let us try to treat this medically. Then we can talk about it again.”

“We have tried to treat this medically and it has not been successful. You are concerned about my medical state. If Jim fails further I will undoubtedly suffer the same. It is a problem without a solution.”

“Look, let’s cover all the bases. Bring him into Starfleet medical, rule out any additional medical issues, and then we can decide.”

“We, Leonard?”

“Shut it Spock. You know what I meant.”

“Then I will agree, assuming Jim is willing.”

“I’ll contact you once I’ve got it set up. Spock, take care of him and you. I can’t help worrying. And don’t say worrying is illogical you green-blooded . . .”

“Thank you Leonard, Spock out.”

The call concluded, Spock took a few moments to center himself. What he proposed was a deep meld, permanent in nature. It wasn’t unheard of between bond mates when one was mentally compromised. It wasn’t hubris that led him to believe his telepathic skills were sufficient for the task. His hybrid nature had actually increased his acuity and years of familiarity with Jim’s mind made him the best choice to attempt it.

Within a few minutes, he had logged his resignation as Ambassador at Large and arranged for a sabbatical for the few lectures his busy schedule allowed. Jim would go to Starfleet Medical but then he would make the attempt to salvage Jim’s mind. Spock felt hope for the first time in many months.

Spock felt Jim stirring through the bond. As he made his way upstairs, he noted Jim was calmer, steadier than before. He sat on the edge of their bed and kissed Jim’s temple. Sleepily, Jim smiled and looked up at Spock with affection.

“What’s for dinner, Mister? I could eat a horse.”

Spock smiled and led him downstairs where there were, in fact, no plans to consume an equine.

\---

Three years later

As was usual, Spock stepped out on his porch and watched the sunrise over the Sonora desert. He and Jim had picked their glass and stone home mostly because it reminded them of Vulcan. Jim had decorated the house, built some outbuildings, including a small stable and corral for his horse, Mango and a rather loud miniature donkey named Fred. For a time, Jim rode Mango around their property and the riding ring they had built together. Both had enjoyed working on something physical and although aging, between the two of them, the task was satisfying and not overwhelming. Only a few months ago, Jim stopped riding but continued to enjoy taking care of their animals. They had added an Australian shepherd called Panda who Dial hated. Jim suspected it was because Panda liked to herd him.

Their life was smaller, no Starfleet lectures or assignments, though Jim had written his memoirs. They had visitors, the old crew, relatives, Jim’s nephew Peter and his family, were regular visitors. Neither felt they were missing anything and found value and peace in their retirement.

Spock’s crazy plan had worked. Their bond stabilized Jim’s mind and although Spock necessarily spent more time in meditation to keep them both on an even keel, it was mostly successful. He had difficulty sometimes with complex computations and his time sense wasn’t as specific as it once was. In exchange though, he had his Jim, mentally present and fully capable of enjoying his life.

Of course Jim was gone now. Instead of fading away, something they both feared, he’d died one sunny morning of a heart attack. It was quick and painless except for those remaining behind. 

Spock looked across the yard to the lone ironwood tree standing near the barn. He’d buried his Jim there where he could greet him every morning with the dawn. Of course Starfleet had built him an impressive memorial and hosted a grand funeral service but all those who knew and loved him the best knew exactly where to pay their respects. Sometimes Spock found native plants near the tree left anonymously or with a brief heartfelt note. Surprisingly, Spock took solace from that.

He sighed and pulled on a pair of old ropers boots and headed out to the barn. Mango and Fred were hungry. Panda scampered around him hoping for attention while Dial sat in the sun-drenched window and surly watched Spock make his slow way to the barn. 

Spock laid his hand on the ironwood as he did every morning and glanced down. By its roots an Ocotillo plant was blooming, its tall red flowers catching the morning light like a flame. A hummingbird buzzed him, desperate to get to the sweet nectar. Spock smiled slightly believing for a moment the old legend that the birds were spirits of the dead come to visit. But Jim didn’t need to send a messenger. He was with him every day in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Please read and review if you are inclined. Peace


End file.
